He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. Grace à Leonardo, she could defend herself now! Gosse was still attempting to manhandle the door, when she turned the key and wrenched it open. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be.
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